


hold me down forever

by Anonymous



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Daddy Kink, Deaf Clint Barton, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Trans Clint Barton, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 09:54:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20562368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Clint and Wanda go undercover. Her dress Does Things to Clint.





	hold me down forever

**Author's Note:**

> Set after AoU. Author is trans.

Clint's ready for the mission. He hasn't always been good at infiltrating high-class events--the Missed Urinal incident is SHIELD lore at this point--but he's old and settled enough that he knows how to put on his own tux. 

HOWEVER. He's not ready for Wanda's red dress.

If he weren't being stunned by her, he'd maybe point out that red isn't a subtle color for someone codenamed Scarlet Witch to wear. But damn, Wanda wears it well. The ball gown's a little old-fashioned, like something silky from an old Bond flick. It sweeps the floor as she comes down the stairs of the hotel. It's not low-cut or anything, which is probably good because Clint thinks if he saw any cleavage right now he would pass out. 

"What?" Wanda asks when she reaches the bottom of the stairs. Normally she sounds a little shy when she asks, but she's all confidence right now. Natasha's taught her well. Clint almost swallows his tongue.

/Let's go/, he signs. He feels that this is a very restrained response.

The mission is--kind of boring, actually. Pretty open and shut. Clint distracts some old-ass businessmen long enough for Wanda to sneak into the back room and steal the USB. It's not even encrypted, which, really? Step up your game, ex-Hydra agents. And then they book it out of there. Open and shut. 

"This seems too easy," Wanda mumbles in the Uber on the way back to the hotel. 

/Sometimes it's like that/, Clint signs. /Don't jinx it./

/Not./ Red tendrils spin between Wanda's fingers. Clint grabs her hands before the Uber driver notices. 

"Stoppit," he whispers. Wanda pouts. "Not cute." She is, though. Dammit.

Even though Clint's got her hands covered, red light curls its way around her face. It's not bright enough that the Uber driver can see, probably. But damn. It casts enough light on her cheeks and collarbone that Clint's mouth waters. It's like being with Natasha in their glory days except not because Wanda doesn't have her hand in Clint's hair, tugging while he goes down on her in the back of a shitty cab in Budapest. 

He could do that to Wanda, but she wouldn't be in charge. She wouldn't want to be in charge. She likes him to take care of her. He wants to. He slides a hand up her silk-covered back and strokes his fingers through her hair. 

"What are you doing?" she says softly. 

"Whatcha think, baby?"

With her hands free, Wanda can sign again. She taps her thumb to her forehead, other fingers spread. /Daddy./ Clint grins. It probably looks predatory, but Wanda doesn't flinch. He cradles the back of her head and carefully kisses her. His mouth comes away stained red with her lipstick.

Clint doesn't make out with Wanda in the elevator--not because he has self-control but because this hotel is old and the elevator freaks him out. Not that he'll admit it in front of Wanda. As soon as they make it into the hotel room, he strips off his tux jacket and throws it. Who cares where it lands. "Bed," he says to Wanda, shutting the door behind him. 

Wanda scrambles onto the bed. "Yes, Daddy," she says. So sweet, even in her fancy dress. 

Clint sucks at taking off bow ties. Sucks. He decides he'd rather put more effort into getting Wanda out of her dress. Which also sucks. What's up with those hook things on dresses? Isn't a zipper enough? He tugs at it a little bit before he gets it undone. Once the zipper's down, he backs up. /Fix it,/ he signs, gesturing at the dress. 

Wanda laughs. "You can't figure it out?"

"No, I can't. Daddy's an idiot."

Wanda slides out of her dress, and that's when Clint realizes she wasn't wearing a bra under it. Oh fuck. He pries the dress out of her hands and tosses it to the side-- "Careful," Wanda protests-- before pushing her down on the mattress and crawling up her body. He can't resist latching onto one of her perfect pink nipples, swirling his tongue around it while he uses his hand to toy with the piercing in her other nipple. A moan rattles through Wanda. She digs her fingers into Clint's scalp and pushes him closer to her soft breasts. 

Clint smiles. "Yeah, baby?" he asks before he blows air against her spit-slick nipple. Wanda whines, clawing his scalp. Clint grimaces, then laughs. "Careful, sweetheart."

"Sorry, Daddy." Wants pets Clint's hair gently, then yelps when he starts sucking a hickey between her breasts. "Daddy, Daddy."

"Mm-hm." Clint moves to her other nipple, sucking and nipping until she's writhing, hands twisting in the sheets. When Clint slides a hand down to just cup around her lace panties, she bucks up against him, breathing hard.

He pulls his hand away. She whines and arches up, nipples brushing against his shirt. He's overdressed. 

"What?" Clint smiles wickedly. Wanda scowls at him as he leans away from her. He strips out of his shirt and undershirt as fast as he can, then kicks off his shoes. Socks and pants can wait. He grabs Wanda under the armpits and drags her up the bed until she's propped up against the headboard. Then he settles between her legs and starts kissing the fabric of her panties where she's soaked through. 

"Ohhh." Wanda digs her nails into Clint's shoulders. He starts lapping at her over the fabric, pressing his tongue in just a little and then pulling back. His boxer briefs are slick; he rubs his legs together, kissing Wanda where her upper thigh meets her underwear. 

"Daddy," Wanda whines. 

Clint props his chin on Wanda's hip and raises his eyebrows. Wanda kicks her legs. He pinches the soft inside of her thighs until she squeaks. "Gotta be nice, baby."

"Please?"

Clint smirks. "I dunno."

He has exactly half a second where he sees her wicked look and recognizes the trouble she's about to cause. Then red tendrils wrap around his nipples and tug. “F-uck,” he gasps.   
  


“What, Daddy?” Wanda says sweetly. She’s not even moving her hands. As Clint presses into the phantom touch, the red streams of magic disappear, but it’s obviously still working. The nerves in Clint’s chest are on fire, and he hasn’t even had this many working nerves there since top surgery twenty years ago. She’s so much stronger than she was when he first met her. And she knows it, too; yeah, she calls him Daddy, but because she wants to. If she wanted to, she could use the magic that’s caressing Clint’s chest to snap his neck instead.

What can he say? He’s got a thing for dangerous redheads. 

Wanda’s not letting up. Clint’s panting in earnest now, wet all the way through his boxer briefs. He’s not gonna let this sidetrack him, though. He pushes Wanda’s underwear to the side, tearing the lace a little, and laps at her cunt. Wanda makes a low sound in the back of her throat and rakes her nails across Clint’s back, except her hands are still clutching the sheets, the little shit, it’s her magic that bites into the meat of his ass. He should really take his pants off, except the time it would take to do that would take away from what he’s trying to accomplish right now. He uses one hand to grab Wanda’s ass and lift her up and the other to drag her panties down. Once they’re at her ankles, she kicks them off and spreads her legs. 

“How d’you ask?” Clint says, face hovering over her cunt. Wanda makes an impatient sound. A phantom finger trails along the waistband of Clint’s boxer briefs just as her right finger twitches. Clint grabs that hand, and the phantom finger pauses. Wanda inhales sharply and stares at Clint with wide eyes. “You want me to whoop your ass, little girl?” 

Wanda bats her eyelashes. “Maybe.”

“I know you don’t.” At least Clint doesn’t. Well, he does, he kind of always wants to flip Wanda over his knee and get her ass good and pink. But she’s sensitive and good, and he’d rather use a spanking as a treat than a punishment. Also, that magic hand is sliding its way into Clint’s underwear now, and he feels like that would probably stop if Wanda got too distracted. He settles for pinching the inside of her thighs over and over again until they’re covered in welts and she’s thrashing. “Come on, honey, be good.” 

“Daddy…”

“Come on.” Clint kisses the soft folds of Wanda’s cunt. She shudders. “Come on, baby.” 

Wanda whines. Her magic’s stroking idly through the mess Clint’s making inside his pants. He wonders if she can feel it on her fingers. Her mouth works for a moment before she chokes out, “Please, Daddy, please.” 

“Good girl,” Clint praises and presses his tongue into her. Almost immediately, that invisible touch pushes into him, too, as slim and lovely as one of Wanda’s fingers. Clint inhales sharply, then moans into Wanda. She shivers at the vibration. Fuck, she tastes good, tangy and warm on his tongue. When he squints up her body, he can see faint red sparks near her fingers. Her magic pushes further inside Clint, then retreats, then comes back. Clint groans and starts fucking her with his tongue in the same rhythm. 

The pressure inside Clint’s cunt changes, widens—like two of Wanda’s fingers now, probably. He clenches around them to see how real they feel. It’s almost exactly when she’s actually fucked him, but warmer, somehow, electric. He hoists her legs over his shoulders and buries his face against her cunt, getting his tongue as deep in her as possible. He’s good at breathing through his nose. Hell, he’ll stay down here until he has gills if Wanda keeps making those breathy little noises. 

When Clint surfaces briefly for a full breath, the touch inside him vanishes. He licks Wanda’s slick off his own chin, getting ready to protest, when suddenly he’s split open. He is, fuck, the magic feels as thick inside him as the strap-on he uses to fuck Wanda at home. Clint’s mouth falls wide around a wordless syllable, a noise that’s pushed out of him as Wanda goes deeper, deeper, deeper. “Daddy,” Wanda says, reaching for him, “Daddy—"

Clint lurches forward, gets his mouth on her clit, and sucks. 

Wanda shrieks. Clint backs off a little, lapping at her clit, and she sobs, heels drumming against Clint’s back. Somehow, incredibly, her magic is still working, fucking Clint a little faster and a little faster. He’d be convinced she was actually inside of him if slick weren’t sliding down the inside of his thighs. He whines against her clit, which makes her gasp and tug at his hair. He stretches his arms up and tweaks her nipples just to hear that gasp again. “Daddy.”

“Baby,” Clint breathes against her clit, bringing one arm back down so he can work a finger into her cunt. Wanda clenches around him and moans, mouth hanging open, as he starts fucking her and sucking her clit at the same time. He’d keep a better rhythm if she weren’t fucking him relentlessly, impossibly, making his hips rock against the bed, begging wordlessly for more. He crooks his finger inside her until her toes curl. Her clit’s hard against his tongue. When he traces circles around it, she starts shivering in earnest. 

Clint squeezes his eyes shut. He’s learned from his work that in overwhelming situations it’s sometimes best to give in and let your instincts take over. Can’t make a perfect shot if you overthink it. His left hand flits between Wanda’s breasts while his right works her cunt and his tongue curls endlessly around her clit and she fucks him. God, she fucks him. He wishes he were totally naked so he could spread his legs wide and just fucking take it, but she’s making him fucking take it anyway, and who’s really in charge here? Every single one of his trembling breaths is a groan now. If this hotel isn’t soundproofed, well, happy fucking birthday to the neighbors, this is the best audiobook they’ll ever hear. 

Red sparks dance around Wanda’s hands, her legs, her stomach. They zap Clint’s lips, quick kisses of electricity. They shake inside his cunt better than any vibrator could. Every sound Wanda makes is a desperate whine. She’s close; he can feel it in how she clenches around his finger, how she arches her chest restlessly against his hand. And he’s just lost in it, ready to be at sea with this feeling for hours or seconds, whatever Wanda needs. /Good good good,/ he signs against her chest, fingers frantic. /Love love love you./ He brushes his thumb over her nipples as he swipes his tongue over her clit. 

Wanda chokes out a sob. “Clint—Daddy—please.” 

“Please what, baby?” Clint rasps. Wanda’s strokes in him get rough, which yeah, he deserves, but he’s gonna make her ask nicely no matter how she fucks him. She’s a good girl. She knows how to ask her Daddy for things. 

“Please, please—please, I want to come, please let me come, please Daddy,” Wanda whines. 

Clint ducks his head and goes for it. Her strokes inside him are erratic, but that’s good, he can focus better like this, devote his concentration to sliding a second finger into her and fucking her relentlessly while he keeps his mouth working on her clit. Her thighs tighten around the sides of his head more and more until he’s a little worried she might accidentally hurt him—but that’s okay, that’s part of the thrill, the rise before the drop—

“I’m gonna—”

Wanda clenches around Clint’s fingers and shakes and screams loud enough that they can probably hear her in the fucking lobby. “Daddy,” she sobs as she spasms around Clint’s fingers. He keeps licking her until she puts a hand on his head and shoves him away. He pulls his fingers out of her slowly, but she still shivers. 

Clint drags himself up the bed and pulls Wanda into his arms. Her chest heaves as she buries her face in the crook of his shoulder. The phantom touch filling him up is gone now. Not that he expected her to maintain that level of magic through a frankly badass orgasm. He’s not disappointed, just empty and on the edge. But worry for Wanda overwhelms that feeling pretty quick. He tucks his thumb under her chin and lifts his head so he can see her wide, glassy eyes. “You okay, baby?”

“Uh-huh.” Wanda blinks at him, totally out of it, and sighs. That contented sound is enough to soothe Clint. He rubs a hand up and down Wanda’s sweat-cooled back. He’s probably spreading slick all over her, but whatever. They need to shower anyway. 

Clint’s eyes are drifting shut—not to sleep, he swears, just resting a little, catching his breath—when a hand slides into his pants. He blinks awake, expecting Wanda’s magic and groaning happily when he realizes it’s actually her hand unhooking his button and pushing his pants and boxer briefs down enough to drag her fingers through all the slick on his thighs. “You made a mess, Daddy,” she says. 

Clint scoffs. “You did that. Little fucker.” He kisses the top of her head, then shudders as she lightly traces his folds. “Don’t tease me, baby.”

“What should I do, Daddy? Should I make you come?”

Clint nods, then changes his mind. “Fuck me a little first. Please.” He knows Wanda’s probably exhausted, but as great as her magic trick was, he wants her inside him, really her. Not a lot of people get to touch him like this. Wanda’s special. He trusts her.

When she pushes her fingers inside him, he groans, immediately clenching around them. His hips start rocking immediately, wanting more but also wanting to hold her in him forever. Wanting to keep her. She seems to sense that; maybe she’s looking in his head, or maybe she just knows him that well now, but whatever it is, she starts fucking him more. Not harder, exactly, not faster, but deeper, meaningfully, until his jaw’s lax and he can only whine. It’s probably only been a minute, maybe two, but he’s trembling. 

“Daddy?” Wanda whispers. 

“Make me come,” Clint gasps. “Come on, baby, make me come.”

Instantly, Wanda slides her fingers out of Clint and uses them to stroke his dick. He feels like he’s been hard for a million years. It only takes a few touches for his muscles to seize up, just a couple more for him to shake apart, pressing his lips against Wanda’s in openmouthed, gasping kisses. He moves her hand away as soon as he’s done and kicks his pants off the rest of the way.

Wanda burrows against him again. “S’that okay?” she asks softly.

Clint barks a laugh. “Fuck, girl, better than okay. Jesus tapdancing Christ.”

Wanda snorts. “You’re so weird.”

Clint wraps his arms around Wanda and tucks her as close to him as he can. “Hey,” he protests. “You chose me. Can’t get out of this one, little girl.”

Wanda doesn’t argue. She just kisses Clint’s chest before she dozes off. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Posting anonymously so my usual readers don't know about my daddy kink


End file.
